


A Circle of Light

by greerian



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Arnold is a better human being than anyone deserves, Auras, Colors, Emotions, Gen, Lies, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-28
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-23 15:52:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6121636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greerian/pseuds/greerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arnold Cunningham has always known he was ‘special’, and not in a good way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Circle of Light

**Author's Note:**

> Well... this is purely self-indulgent. But I have a weakness for creating AUs in which douchebag behavior is actually not a douchey as it originally seems.

Arnold Cunningham has always known he was ‘special’. He was a loud, sloppy kid who became a loud, sloppy teenager, and he wasn’t ever smart. His grades were ‘B-’s at best, and he never had presentations his parents were told to show up for. When he got home after school, his mom would put on a movie for him or give him some video games and he’d play or watch until she told him not to and to finish his homework because _goodness gracious, Arnold, do you want to fail?_

And, no, he didn’t _want_ to fail, but he always ended up doing it anyway, so what was even the point? But Mormons are hard workers and they don’t give up, so Arnold kept working and only got held back one year when he was 10. He had an IEP, and had to go see the school counselor pretty often, and nobody really talked to him after that year; but Arnold didn’t care too much, because he had- well, some people would call it a ‘gift’, and he himself thought it was pretty cool until he told his dad about it one time and his dad sent him to Bishop Donahue (who actually did exist, contrary to whatever he’s told numerous people) for therapy. But it's a thing, a thing he can do and nobody else he knows can: Arnold Cunningham can see colors around people.

They’re kind of vague, and he can’t really see more than a shadow unless he focuses, but they’re _there_ , and even when he was little and all he knew was that black was a bad color he asked his teacher why she was so sad until she had him sit in time out for being disrespectful. He’s learned not to talk about it, even when people have thundercloud looking thing around them, but he notices them, and more often than not his notes were covered in squiggles and curlicues that were little Arnold’s attempt to draw what he saw around Liza, sitting three desks away, or Riley, one desk behind. He used up a lot of colored pencils in school, trying to draw them.

But anyway, Arnold soon figured out which colors go with which feelings, and some that weren’t really feelings at all, and that some people have blue for good things and some have it for bad things and sometimes there just no blue at all, but he somehow always knows what it means. It’s an intuitive thing, he realizes, and he just has to sit back and wait for the meanings to occur to him. Eventually it's like he can talk to people and ask them how they’re doing, just by watching them. Arnold likes to think that the people he watches most are his friends.

But whatever it is, even if it’s not real, it’s something he’s _really_ good at; he can read the colors and understand people in seconds by the time he’s in high school. It’s only when he meets Kevin Price for the first time that he notices something different.

The colors he sees are always fuzzy and sort of cloudlike. Two people close together can blend theirs, making weird mixed colors that are really, really confusing when you’re trying to see which of the two is more mad at you and which one you should try to ask for help. But with Kevin, his colors have _shapes._  They’re weird, sharp, geometric things, like some abstract art Arnold saw in a museum once; lines and boxes and diamonds and non-symmetric parallelograms and all sorts of weird stuff. Kevin’s colors never, ever interact with anybody else's. And his are _beautiful._ He’s all orange and gold, with some red splashed here and there, and it’s _blinding_.

So, obviously, Arnold looks as much as he can. It takes him a while to notice that Kevin’s colors don’t change. They’re really bright, too, drowning out the colors of almost everybody in the room, but it’s the consistency that weirds Arnold out because _everybody_ ’s colors change, and even people who are gold every day have blues and purples and blacks _sometimes._ Kevin’s colors look like a fire, never fading or changing as long as they’re at the Missionary Training Center together; Arnold finds himself wondering what that fire is burning, and when it’ll go out.

He watches because he’s curious, but the very first time Kevin’s colors change are when the head of the MTC announces that they - Arnold Cunningham and _Kevin_ _Price_! - are going to be companions. There’s a flicker of something unfamiliar in the middle of the gold before Kevin replies, “Oh, hi!” and Arnold is almost proud that he’s made Kevin Price crack. Except that it means that he’s made him mad enough, or disappointed enough, to be less than happy for the first time since they met.

It flickers again when the missionary training center guy tells them they’re going to Uganda, but this time, Arnold gets to see what it is. It’s a weird sort of _navy_ , actually, completely different from Kevin’s fiery colors. Huh.

Arnold wonders what navy stands for.

But it’s gone in an instant, and Kevin’s smiling and cheering right along with everyone else, and it’s like nothing happened. Arnold decides to make it his personal mission (a mission _within_ a mission) to keep Kevin’s colors as bright as he can, because, and maybe he’s just gone off the deep end (nobody can say he hasn’t already, what with seeing colors and all) but he has a really _weird_ feeling about that navy.

*****

He doesn’t see any more navy, though. Kevin has some green in his shapes when they meet at the airport, but that quickly goes away as they get psyched up _together_ (and no, Arnold isn’t hurt that Kevin brushed off his two most favorite things in the whole world; it’s not a big deal, _really_ ). His colors are actually really bright until they finally arrive at the village where they’re going to spend the next two years. Then the lime green comes back with a vengeance, and when they get threatened by those scary guys with the big guns (whose colors Arnold doesn’t even notice, he’s so scared) it mixes with bright, fire truck red (and it looks really gross). It’s weird, though… normally, the colors on people are very… muted. Kind of mixed together. Blurry. Pastel, or like they’re part grey. But not with Kevin. His are almost _neon_ they’re so bright, and it’s like watching a high-def TV of Kevin Price’s emotions. Arnold has never seen anything so _clear_ before.

It’s then he starts to wonder if maybe he shouldn’t be watching so closely.

But then a whole whirlwind of stuff happens, and Kevin’s colors are a sight to see (not in a good way). They kind of look like they got punched, and there’s a green-purple bruise in the middle of them. But the mission house is up ahead, and the other elders should help everything be put right again, and the girl leading them - _Nabulungi Hatimbi,_ her name is (even though he'll have to mess it up; can't have people thinking he knows what he's talking about, right?) - has the loveliest colors he’s ever seen, all soft and warm and, and, like _cotton candy_!

Arnold grins bashfully after her, watching that fluffy, ethereal cloud around her disappear into the darkness.

But Kevin can’t know about that. Kevin won’t believe him. What’s the _opposite_ of cotton candy?

“She’s such a hot shade of _black_ , right?” he asks, puffing out his chest a little. Kevin gives him a weird look. “She’s like a _latte_!”

 _Perfect,_  Arnold thinks. _Exactly opposite of cotton candy._

“Let’s just go inside and meet the other elders, all right?”

So they do, and for a second it looks like nobody’s there, but then-

Oh, wow. _Ouch_.

Arnold actually winces as eight elders come into view, all with absolutely _crazy_ colors. None of them are as bad as the guy who comes up to them, though, introducing himself as Elder McKinley. It’s like watching the inside of a nightclub, dark with flashes of intense, fluorescent color, constantly moving and growing and shrinking and _geez,_  Elder McKinley is a _hot mess_. Arnold can hardly listen to him over how messed up all of his colors are. And… is that _buzzing_?

It only takes Arnold a minute or so to figure out why the elders’ colors are so messed up. Not only have they not made any baptisms (no wonder, having to deal with feelings like _that)_  but they just ‘turn off’ the bad stuff. Geez, that’s… that _gross_.

They certainly grab Kevin, though, and soon he’s dancing right along with the rest of them. Arnold claps along, trying to show support even if he can’t join in. But he's watching, too, and it’s painfully clear Elder McKinley’s stormcloud monstrosity is getting redder around Kevin. Add that to the, the _gay_ thing, and the pretty obvious looks he’s sending him, and, well, Arnold’s not an idiot. He’s also not blind; Kevin’s colors are taking on a suspiciously blush-like tint of their own.

But, oh, Kevin’s not having ‘gay thoughts’, and that’s exactly what Elder McKinley wanted, isn’t it?

“Yay!” Arnold cries, “it worked!”

The other elders all cheer, and both Elder McKinley are swept up into the dance, with no more time or energy to focus on looking at each other. Arnold nods, satisfied.

*****

Uganda is crazy, though, and Arnold loses track of his personal little mission pretty darn quickly. It’s not actually his fault, though; _Kevin_ is the one who pushed him away. How is he supposed to watch out for somebody who doesn’t want him around?

And, it turns out, Arnold’s handy little habit of making up crazy things to get out of trouble creates some pretty relatable stories. It started out small (he’s just trying to help, not be a complete heretic), but he could see the change in people’s colors, right before his eyes. The darker colors started to lighten, and they got brighter with every story he told. What was he supposed to do, _stop_? He’s making people _happy_ ; that would just be cruel. And if Kevin’s colors look dimmer every time he sees them, well, that’s Kevin’s fault, isn’t it? Arnold tried.

But none of that prepared him for coming across Kevin at the Kitguli Kafe. He looks awful, anybody could see that, but his colors… they’re _gone_. Arnold can’t see anything, really. Even if he has a shadow, it’s faint enough that the shadow of the coffee stand swallows it up. The shapes, the vibrant gold, even the bruise-looking part, all of it’s gone.

“Elder Price, what _happened_ to you?”

“I woke up; that’s what happened.”

“Of course you woke up; you drank twelve cups of coffee!” _You broke the rules_! Arnold thinks. _You left me, and now look at you._

“You tell me how is it, huh?” Kevin says, advancing on him. “How is it that you converted all those people into Mormons?”

But, as Kevin comes into the light, Arnold sees that there’s a very, very faint reddish shadow around Kevin, focused behind his eyes, and he heaves a sigh of relief.

“I dunno,” he says. “Once I baptized Nagasaki the others just fell into place.” He offers a silent apology to Nabulungi for butchering her name, but he thinks she would understand, if she knew why he had to.

“You just get everything you pray for, don’t you?” Kevin asks, mockingly, and Arnold looks away.

 _I didn’t pray for any of this_ , Arnold thinks. _I just wanted to make people happy._

“You’re doing everything _I_ was supposed to do. Now doesn’t that seem a little telling to you?”

“Telling of what?” Arnold asks. The red is growing stronger, and even though it’s the furthest thing from that beautiful golden glow he had before, it’s still _something_ , and he’ll do whatever he needs to to make it grow. And Kevin is clearly in the mood to talk.

“That the universe doesn’t work the way we were told!” The red flares up, and Arnold mentally pats himself on the back. But then it fades, and… and that navy comes back. It’s not just a flicker, though; it’s _everywhere_ , and it’s so strong it almost dims Kevin himself out.

And Kevin tells him a story, a story about Orlando. Suddenly, everything clicks into place. No wonder Kevin was so disappointed in Uganda. No wonder he was acting so weird. No wonder he was so determined. No wonder… everything.

But even the navy is fading now; there’s almost nothing left. It’s just Kevin and his coffee, and Arnold has to do _something_.

“All right, um, look, the mission president is coming, and if I’m without my mission companion, you know that looks kinda _bad_ …” It’s not the best topic change, but Kevin’s color does come back, and maybe the appeal to the rules will help get him back on his feet.

It doesn’t, though; the little flash of red he sees blends with what remains of the navy and Kevin’s just surrounded by a dead-looking purple cloud that doesn’t change or grow or anything  until… well, Arnold stops watching when Naba’s pageant starts. He doesn’t even think about Kevin until after Naba runs away (and all the fluffy cotton candyness is gone; she looks as dismal as the elders, blue and brown and _miserable_ ), and Kevin starts talking.

“Joseph Smith dying of dysentery,” he says, conversationally. “Moroni from the Starship Enterprise?”

 _Yeah, I get it, Kevin_ , Arnold thinks. _No need to rub it in_.

“That play was… the most miraculous thing I’ve ever seen.”

_...what?_

Arnold turns around, completely confused, and- Kevin’s glowing again. It’s faint, and there’s some purple in there still which looks really bad, and he sees something that makes him think Kevin more than a little desperate, but the glow is _there_ , and Kevin is almost smiling. Huh.  

*****

Apparently that’s all they need to start fixing Arnold’s mistakes. Kevin’s colors wash out again when they come face to face with the general, and they never get back to that solid gold Arnold saw at the MTC, but there’s still a glow and it lasts past the end of their first week in Uganda, so Arnold is feeling pretty optimistic.

It’s weird, though… Kevin’s shapes change. His colors still don’t really blend with anyone else’s, and even if they did Arnold would be able to pick his out in a crowd, but he doesn’t have as many lines and sharp edges. It’s more chaotic (and his colors _finally_ start to change like a normal person’s) but he's no less beautiful.

Wait; _he's_ beautiful?

Oh, geez.

*****

“Why do you lie so much?” Kevin asks offhandedly one night, as they get ready for bed; Arnold stops, half in and half out of his uniform shirt. “Don’t get me wrong, it seems really useful, and you’ve made a whole religion out of it,” he adds, “but are you a compulsive liar, or what’s the story there?”

Arnold shrugs. “I’ve always had a big imagination,” he replies, almost managing to not sound sarcastic. “It just kinda, I dunno, _translated_ into making things up all the time.”

“But you know you’re doing it, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Arnold replies. He _knows_ , but that doesn’t mean anything, really.

“Why don’t you stop?” Kevin asks, climbing into bed. “I mean, why would you make up a story about a bishop who doesn't exist who said you have bad self-esteem? That’s just plain embarrassing,”

 _Because I lie a lot_ , Arnold thinks (or maybe says; he’s not really sure). _That’s my thing_. _I have to do it so people don’t think I’m weird._ He snorts. Like _Kevin_ would understand that.

“Because I see colors around people and when I told my dad he thought I was lying, so I started telling lies all the time to cover up in case I said anything about it.”

... _whoops_.

Kevin’s head slowly turns to face him. “Are you serious?” he asks, and it’s not a “Are you serious? _Really_?” kind of thing with rolled eyes and irritation: Kevin sounds like he’s actually asking.

Arnold nods a bit too eagerly. He’s never had anybody sound like that when he’s told them (especially not on _accident_ ). Maybe Kevin doesn’t think he’s crazy; wouldn’t that be neat?

“That’s… Geez, Arnold, that’s…” he laughs a little, so Arnold does too.

“Yeah, it’s _something_ ,” he says.

Kevin doesn’t reply for a while. Arnold’s tense, excited shoulders slowly sink, and he’s just given up (why would he think that Kevin really believed him?) and started to climb in under his covers when Kevin turns all the way on his side and asks “What’s that like?”

Arnold freezes. “What?”

“What’s it like to see that around people? Is it really distracting? Is… if that’s why you lie all the time, have you told anybody else?” Kevin frowns. “What does it look like?”

“You… you really wanna know?” Arnold asks. “For _real_?”

“Well, _yeah_ ,” Kevin replies, smiling a little. “That’s really neat, Arnold. I mean, I’ve never heard of anybody doing that before. Do you think it’s a gift of the Holy Spirit or something?”

Arnold jumps back out of the covers, landing cross-legged on his bed. He never thought anybody would be _interested_!  
So he talks, and he talks and he talks and he talks and talks and _talks_ , and Kevin doesn’t yawn, or fall asleep, or tell him to shut up, even though it gets really, _really_ late; Arnold tells him about everything, the differences in colors, the way he has to focus, the way Nabulungi’s seem to catch the light in the softest, sweetest version of a rainbow Arnold has ever seen. He even tells him about how he’s never been really good at keeping his mouth shut, so the first few times he mentioned seeing colors on stuff he had to lie about other things to scare the people away. And, yeah, now he’s got no friends and everybody thinks he’s a pathological liar, but nobody thinks he’s crazy or demon-possessed. Arnold is pretty darn proud of that.

Kevin shifts onto his back again.

“Hey, buddy?” he asks quietly. “What… what do mine look like?”

“Well, uh…” Arnold scratches the back of his neck. “Right now?”

“Sure,” Kevin says. “Or, in general. What did I used to look like?”

Oh. “You… uh, back at the MTC, you had these… it was weird, I’ve never seen anything like it, you had shapes in yours? You didn’t have a cloud, you had-” Arnold comes to a realization. “You had a box.”

Kevin nods, once. “Sounds about right,” he replies; Arnold doesn’t need to look to know that Kevin’s colors are starting to fade to black bitterness on the edges.

“But it was beautiful,” Arnold rushes to say. “I mean, it was… it was crazy, all yellow and orange, like… like a fire, or something. You _glowed_.”

Kevin huffs a laugh. “And now?”

“Right now?” Arnold looks Kevin over. His colors hover over the itchy beige blanket pulled up to his waist, and from what Arnold can see, the black hasn’t faded at all. There’s also blue there, more than Arnold likes seeing on him, mixing with a dull maroon in the center to form that hideous dull purple. But that’s around his waist and at his chest. When Arnold looks up at Kevin’s face, the color lightens to a sort of periwinkle-mauve, and, there, just at the level of his eyes, is that faint golden glow. “It’s still there.”

“You don’t need to lie about it, Arnold. I know it’s- I have to look awful.”

Green starts to mix with the maroon.  
“I’m not lying!” he cries. “I mean it, Kevin, I wouldn’t lie about this. Just ‘cause I lie a lot doesn’t mean I don’t know how to tell the truth!”

That was too loud; Arnold knows the minute the words leave his mouth. He flinches, his shoulders practically hitting his ears.

“Uh, I mean… no matter how bad you look, you’ll never be as bad as Elder McKinley,” he offers.

Kevin doesn’t answer for a long, long time.

Arnold has gotten up, turned off the lights, climbed into bed for real this time, and gotten comfortable by the time he hears Kevin’s voice in the darkness. “Hey, buddy?”

“Yeah?” Arnold replies.

“I… I was thinking, and I realized something. You can see all those colors,” Kevin says, looking up at the ceiling, “but you can’t see yourself, can you?”

Arnold stills. That was how he had figured out what he could do, actually; getting dressed for school, he had looked in the mirror and realized that his reflection didn’t have a cloud around him like everybody else. He had shrugged and figured he didn’t need to _see_ his own emotions since he was already feeling them. “Uh… no. Is that… um, bad?” he asks.

“No,” Kevin replies quietly, and Arnold can hear him shaking his head against the pillow. “But it does explain a lot.”

A lot… a lot of what? What is that supposed to mean? But the lights are off; Arnold can’t see Kevin’s colors anymore. He has no idea what Kevin is saying.

“You know, Arnold…” Kevin says. “You’re… you’re really special.”

Arnold huffs. He’s heard _that_ one before.

“No, I…” Kevin makes a sound of frustration, and Arnold knows he would have gone a little more red at that; it’s a comforting realization. “I mean it in a good way, okay?”

Is Kevin lying? Maybe. Arnold doesn’t know, because he can’t see if there’s any sincerity or feeling in what Kevin is saying.

But… but Kevin has no way of knowing if Arnold told the truth or not just now. Kevin trusted him anyway. Kevin doesn’t have a reason to, really; Arnold can’t prove anything. Kevin could have decided he’s a liar, just like everybody else, but he _didn’t_.

“Okay,” Arnold murmurs into the darkness. “I trust you.”

“...thank you, buddy.”

Arnold smiles softly. “Yeah, _best friend_ ,” he replies. “Goodnight.

“Goodnight, Arnold.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave kudos/comments, or feel free to shoot me a message at [my tumblr](http://www.greerian.tumblr.com).
> 
> (a headcanon you didn't need: imagine Elder McKinley going to shush Arnold when he has his little outburst and overhearing what Arnold has to say about him.)  
> ((another headcanon you didn't need: imagine Kevin making Arnold create a color chart for not-so-good days, so that Arnold can describe his emotions in the way he knows best))  
> (((A third headcanon: Poptarts' colors are like a thunderstorm with flashes of yellow "lightning". Church looks like a walking bruise.)))


End file.
